


Vulnerability, revisited

by ladykarasu



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: It suits them though, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:23:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykarasu/pseuds/ladykarasu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Sebastian] – dangerous, formidable in his own right - was never so alluring as when he willingly let Jim make him vulnerable.  Something he never allowed another soul - shouldn’t allow Jim, were he thinking clearly.</p><p>And that allure…   well, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?</p><p>Distractions.</p><p>So an idle thought became a budding action; uncertain, yet, of its true termination, but rich with a full range of possibilities.  Jim rarely made truly idle threats, after all, and Sebastian <i>had</i> been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulnerability, revisited

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Prompt fic: Sebastian, Vulnerability](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/17370) by Bendydicky. 



> This follows sometime after [bendydick's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BendyDick) prompt-fill fic: [Sebastian, Vulnerability](http://bendydicky.tumblr.com/post/41845443950/sebastian-vulnerability) The enjoyment of this (or understanding, at least) is improved by reading that, first. ;) **Warning** for... um. minor squick, I guess, and Jim being Jim. Which is often the same thing.

It had been Seb’s turn, this time; not that they took turns, really, but once most of their clothes had been cast off, moving inexorably towards the bed, Sebastian was the one who ended up on his back, stretched out and tied down with taut ropes. The man – dangerous, formidable in his own right - was never so alluring as when he willingly let Jim make him vulnerable. Something he _never_ allowed another soul - shouldn’t allow Jim, were he thinking clearly.

And that allure… well, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

Distractions.

So an idle thought became a budding action; uncertain, yet, of its true termination, but rich with a full range of possibilities. Jim rarely made truly idle threats, after all, and Sebastian _had_ been warned.

Warned heedlessly, apparently. Now, Seb looked so very peaceful, sated and pleased in the shadow of their activities, dead to the world but for where his body intersected with the warmth of Jim’s draped along his. So contented, so relaxed…

There wasn’t even a start when the blade settled against the soft skin of Seb’s neck; barely the slightest pause in the rhythm of his breathing, a moment of stillness to note his surprise, something which would have gone unnoticed had Jim been anyone else, if he hadn’t been looking for it. But that small pause was all; Sebastian didn’t tense, didn’t resist, didn’t even open his eyes, all he did was tilt his chin back slightly, slowly, and turn his head to the right. 

Remembrance of his last threat hung heavy in that motion – the connection easily made to that small argument, when Jim had opined that Seb became too relaxed during these couplings, too trusting, unguarded; that he might well chose to slit his throat during a moment of vulnerability, if Jim ever chose to kill the man – but now, with the blade at his throat, he didn’t tense, didn’t make any other movement or plea. His heart rate was still evening out, and in this new position Sebastian’s carotid artery pulsed gently, blatantly, just under the surface of vulnerable skin; offered clearly, easily, without hesitation.

Of the many reactions he had considered, this one hadn’t even made the list; this was not the survivor he knew. Scowling slightly, Jim moved the knife into place along the offered artery, but didn’t exert any pressure on it, merely letting it bob slightly with the faint motion of Sebastian’s heartbeat; a subtle promise.

“You’ve never struck me as suicidal, Moran.” He murmured, voice low and rich, but without inflection. 

The man had the audacity to smirk, a lazy grin pulling at his lips for a long moment before he responded with almost cocky indulgence, a hint of warmth threading into his tone, “Good; I’d hate to think you were losing your touch.”

When it was clear nothing more was forthcoming, Jim pressed slightly, then shifted the knife, point drifting up to trace the line of Sebastian’s artery where it disappeared up under his jaw, then following it back down to his collar bone, tipping and twisting the blade once it stilled until a small drop of blood welled up at the prick. “Sebastian”, he said warningly, then paused, waiting.

Blue eyes finally opened to regard him, though Sebastian did not otherwise move, seemingly comfortable with his present position. “You’ll do what you want, Jim”, he replied after more of a wait than might have been intelligent or safe, given his tenuous situation – the pause a point of its own, subtly stressing a complete lack of fear. “I came to terms with that well before this became more than a job.”

Seb let out a breath of a laugh, then, that in other circumstances might have been a harsh bark of humour, brash and unrestrained in its amusement. Now it was subdued, but no more self-conscious or restrained, hinting that this sudden fatalism was more an act of reasoned devotion than apathy. There was more under the statement than what was said, but Jim's attention shifted from that consideration when Seb bucked up slightly, just enough for Jim to feel him, to make a quiet, voiceless point. “Anyway, your timing could be worse”, Sebastian continued, voice still warmly amused, with a hint of dark irony, “I always thought I’d go out in a much less… pleasant way.”

The response wasn’t quite… _flippant_ ; rather, earnest, with a hint of black humour, and Jim paused, simply watching for a long moment before deciding how to respond.

“You know, I only had to make a quick job of it, when I was relying on your guard being down… now that you’ve-“, he smirked, glancing up at the ropes holding Seb in place, “-let yourself get _all tied up_ , there’s nothing to keep me from drawing this out – having a bit of fun with you, first.”

He drew the knife down lightly, just enough pressure on the tip to be felt dragging across Sebastian’s chest until the point dipped into his navel; Jim’s eyes followed its progress avidly, but he paused, there, glancing up to meet Seb’s gaze again, his own expression edging into a mischievous mien that would often precede blood. “I could gut you, like this, if I wanted”, he offered lightly, reflectively, “maybe even skin you… “ Trailing off, Jim let the thought hang as the blade pressed down to flatten against Sebastian’s belly, though the tip remained where it was, threateningly nestled in his navel. For his part, Seb did not seem particularly concerned with this display, watching with an almost passive eye until Jim had finished, then making an attempt at a shrug. 

The response was languid, unhurried, and after a moment Seb replied with an ease that spoke of confidence. “You could, but I don’t think you will.”

“Oh?”, Jim asked, exaggerated surprise in his voice and the rise of his brows as he leaned back slightly to more directly regard Sebastian, “And whatever gives you _that_ idea?”

Tilting his head slightly, Seb regarded Jim more evenly, appearing to give the question honest thought before responding, “You could, if pressed, but it’s not your preference; I have no doubt that you could kill me in an instant if it served you, but you’d try to make it quick, clean, if you could – you drag it out when it’s expedient, or someone really irritates you, but you’ve become fond of me. Insofar as you’re fond of anything.” He shrugged again with a twitch of shoulders that could barely move, and went silent, as if he were relating a simple fact – a student reciting their sums – rather than opining how he might or might not meet a horrible end.

To be fair, it was this sort of frank acceptance of the facts that _had_ initially made Jim…. _fond_ , if that was the word of the evening. Possessive, he thought, might be a better one, but that was down to semantics. 

The confidence in that answer, however, had the blade moving silently upward once more; cutting lightly, this time, a shallow scrape up across Seb’s abdomen, then over a scant few centimeters and back down. Jim gave every indication that his attention had shifted fully to the work, watching a small line of blood well up here and there where the knife had passed, though Sebastian didn’t react beyond the occasional autonomous twitch of muscle under Jim's hand, merely watching him move. Once he was finished laying the base, the knife came back up to thread under the very tip of the shape he had made, working delicately to peal up a gossamer-thin layer of skin. He glanced back up to watch Sebastian’s face, knowing they both knew what was about to happen, but the yank, when it came – far more painful than damaging – pulled little more than a hiss and the slightest wince from the other man, along with a thin, almost negligible thread of skin.

The stillness between them stretched out for several long heartbeats – it was Jim’s show, now, and Seb had always respected his predilections – before Jim smirked.

“You died tonight, Sebastian”, he purred, sliding up along Seb’s body, hand – still loosely gripping the knife – trailing along the raw flesh of his belly until it rested just below the man’s collar bone. Cool, dark eyes met blue firmly, and _held_ them, transfixed. “Every day you wake, after this, is a gift.” He held his position for another long moment, still – amazingly, though not surprisingly – sensing no fear from the man beneath him, only acceptance. The danger had passed – they both knew it – but he doubted the reaction would be different if it hadn’t. 

In a flash, his smirk deepened and Jim swooped down to press an almost violent kiss to Sebastian’s lips as his hand shot out…

The contact was fast and impassioned, leaving rent fiber and a breathless marksman in its wake once Jim drew back. “Just remember that, tiger”, he said, playful amusement lilting Jim's voice as he pulled away, leaving the knife on the bed and patting the other man’s hip in a doting sort of affection. Sliding off the bed in one smooth motion, Jim left the room without a backwards glance, leaving Seb to undo the rest of the bindings, himself.

He _would_ pick up a perceptive one… still, best to keep his tiger on his toes.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I read one of bendydick's prompt fic's (Sebastian, Vulnerability, to be exact) a bit back, and was immediately struck upside the head by the muse with a following scene. Having obtained permission to write said scene (which will almost certainly be regretted, soon enough XD) I've done so, and given the content, had a cackling fit over posting it today. Because it's so very romantic. *snicker* Everyone needs a little Valentine's day skinning, right? XD
> 
> Anyway, this started in Seb's perspective, but Jim is a bossy git and took over; I have no excuse past, I've been sick. This is basically me trying to force my muse into cooperating with me after a long dry spell. (Thanks to Random-nexus for giving this a look-over for any particularly embarrassing mistakes, before posting :D)


End file.
